Kragoth studied the scene in silence. His experienced eyes took in the details. The way the body had been torn apart. The angle of the cuts. The distribution of the remains.

"This wasn't a brawl," he rumbled. "This was an execution."

"Yes, sir." The captain's voice shook slightly. "The slaves are saying it was the yellow-eyed demon."

Kragoth's head snapped toward the captain. "Say that again."

"The yellow-eyed demon, sir. The one from the rumors. They're saying he's real. That he's here. That he killed Malketh and then vanished into thin air."

The Pit Master's jaw clenched so hard his teeth grinded together audibly. He turned his gaze on the nearest slaves, his small eyes finding Tarvek almost immediately.

"You," Kragoth said, pointing at Tarvek with one massive finger. "You witnessed this."

It wasn't a question. Tarvek felt his blood turn to ice, colder than anything the pit could produce.

He wanted to deny it, to claim he'd seen nothing, but the blood still coating his face and clothes made that impossible.

"I..." Tarvek's voice came out as a croak. "Yes, Pit Master."

"What did you see?"

Tarvek's mind raced. Tell the truth and risk Kragoth's wrath for consorting with the enemy. Lie and risk the yellow-eyed demon's wrath for breaking his promise. Either choice felt like death.

"An armored figure," Tarvek finally said, choosing his words carefully. "Black and crimson. Yellow eyes visible through the helmet. He killed the overseer with one strike. Then he... disappeared."

"Disappeared," Kragoth repeated, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Into thin air?"

"Yes, Pit Master."

Kragoth was silent for a long moment, his small eyes moving from Tarvek to the blood-stained ice to the other slaves who stood frozen in terror.

"Everyone back to work," he finally said, his voice carrying across the entire section. "Double shifts for anyone caught talking. Rations will be cut for anyone who spreads more rumors. The next slave who mentions yellow eyes will join Malketh on the ice."

The threat landed like a hammer. Slaves scrambled back to their positions, pickaxes rising and falling with renewed desperation.

But Kragoth wasn't looking at them anymore. His gaze swept across the pit, searching shadows, scanning elevated platforms, examining every dark corner where something might hide.

'Pho was right,' the Pit Master thought grimly.

'Something is here. Something that kills and vanishes. Something that the rumors are calling a demon.'

His hand tightened on his sword's hilt.

'When it shows itself, I'll tear it apart and mount its head above the processing station. Yellow eyes or not, nothing survives against me in my own pit.'

But even as Kragoth thought the words, a small part of him, a part he'd long since learned to ignore, whispered a different truth.

'You didn't see it. You didn't sense it. It killed one of your overseers and vanished without leaving a trail. And if the rumors are true, it's killed seven of your soldiers in two days.'

Kragoth pushed the thought away.

Fear was for the weak. And he was Nightmare-rank on the verge of Disaster-class. Whatever this yellow-eyed demon was, it would learn what that meant.

Around him, the pit returned to its normal operations. Slaves working. Guards watching. The machinery of suffering grinding forward.

But beneath the surface, something had changed. A seed had been planted. A question that couldn't be unasked.

What if the yellow-eyed demon was real?

And what if it was hunting them all?

-----

Kragoth emerged from his command post as the crimson sky began its subtle shift that passed for morning on this floor.

He'd barely slept. How could he, with rumors of a yellow-eyed demon spreading through his pit like a plague?

With guards jumping at shadows and slaves whispering about monsters that killed and vanished?

The Pit Master descended the stairs from his elevated platform, his three-meter frame casting a shadow that stretched across the black ice. His small piggish eyes scanned the mining sections below, looking for any sign of disruption, any hint that…

Kragoth stopped mid-step.

Bodies.

Dozens of them.

Piled directly in front of his command post like an offering to some dark god.

Arms and legs tangled together in a grotesque sculpture of death. Faces frozen in expressions of terror and agony.

Blood pooled beneath the pile, so much of it that the black ice had turned a deep crimson.

Guards. Overseers. Even a few of his personal sentries who'd been stationed around the upper levels.

All dead.

All arranged in a neat pile right where Kragoth couldn't possibly miss them.

'What... what is this?' Kragoth's mind raced, his legendary composure cracking for the first time in decades.

'When did this happen? How did I not hear anything? My post is right there, I was awake most of the night, I would have heard….'

His hand moved to his greatsword's hilt, gripping it so hard his knuckles cracked audibly.

'This is a message. A declaration. The yellow-eyed demon is real, and it's telling me that it can kill my soldiers at will. That it can move through my pit without detection. That it can stack bodies at my doorstep while I sleep.'

The thought sent a spike of rage through Kragoth's chest, hot and violent enough to burn away the creeping edge of fear.

"Fucking coward," Kragoth snarled, his voice echoing across the empty platform.

"Killing guards in the dark. Leaving bodies like trophies. If you're so confident, why don't you face me yourself?" His small eyes swept across the shadows, searching for any sign of movement.

"I'd kill you so fast you wouldn't even see the blade coming. I'd tear you apart with my bare hands and feed your corpse to the processing furnaces. Yellow eyes or not, you're nothing against me. NOTHING!"

"Yeah, I bet you'd kill him so quick."

"Damn right I would."

The voice came from directly beside Kragoth.

Kragoth's entire body went rigid, his warrior instincts screaming danger even as his mind struggled to process what he'd just heard.

That voice hadn't been there a second ago. He would have sensed it. He would have heard footsteps, felt a presence or something.

But there had been nothing.

And now someone was standing right next to him.

Kragoth turned his head slowly, his hand still gripping his sword's hilt, and saw him.

A figure in black and crimson armor, standing perhaps two meters away. But this wasn't like the descriptions the slaves had given. The armor wasn't just metal plates anymore. It was covered in black demonic scales.

The scales extended up the figure's neck. There was no helmet, just a demon's face. Covered his arms completely. Made his hands look more like claws than anything human or demonic.

Those yellow eyes burned with an intensity that made Kragoth's heartbeat pause for a second.

But the figure's posture was relaxed. Almost friendly. Like a comrade agreeing with a fellow warrior's boast.

"I mean, seriously," the scaled figure continued, gesturing at the pile of bodies with one clawed hand.

"Look at what this demon did. Killed all these guards without you even noticing? That's pretty arrogant, right? He must think he's really something special."

Kragoth's brain stuttered. The voice was calm.

The tone suggested this was just another one of his soldiers commiserating about the situation.

"Exactly," Kragoth found himself saying, his mouth moving before his mind caught up. "The arrogance of it. Thinking he can just waltz into my pit and…."

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